Shuffle
by SawManiac211
Summary: A series of oneshots based on ten songs from my iPod - better than summary, see inside for more details.
1. Human: The Killers

**Brief explanation: A ShuffleFic is where you put your iPod, MP3 etc on shuffle and use the first ten songs – no matter what ten songs they are – to write one-shots. At times I will be writing one-shot based on some of my favourite Saw Fanfics, but I will say now: I do NOT own ANY of the things that the various writers have done/writers themselves, and hopefully you will read the actual Fanfics. Enjoy, and PLEASE don't make fun of my taste in music...**

xXx

**Track 01: Human – The Killers**

He'd had it coming – that's what they'd all been saying: the journalists, the judge, the jury, even his own lawyer (although, of course, he was sensible enough not to say it out loud when the verdict finally came through.

But he wasn't offended: he'd thought exactly the same. And he wasn't too bothered about the hatred evident wherever he looked – hell, why shouldn't they hate him: a detective turned traitor, a dispenser of justice gone crooked. A man into a murderer.

To be honest, he was tired of the whole thing: he'd settled his score with Jill and it was too exhausting to keep running from what was bound to catch up with him in the end.

He wanted release, and he knew that the victims – living or dead – would want release too.

It was almost boring hearing all his crimes read out: he knew that they knew every detail as much as he did, so why go through the whole procedure.

"How do you – "

"Guilty." He interrupted with a sigh. He'd almost laughed at the man's face – he had clearly been expecting him to fight just a little bit.

"Are you _sure?_"

"Yes."

That had been easy: just one word.

_Up to the platform of surrender I was brought but I was kind_

Naturally, there were more journalists screaming for his attention when he was frogmarched outside. He'd expected that, and it wasn't much of a deal; questions couldn't be understood in the clamour of noise, so it was easy to ignore. He caught sight of Pamela Jenkins elbowing her way to the front and half-smiled – which was ironic, because that was all he could do after having half his jaw ripped apart. She started looking nervous, and that amused him – even in captivity people were still scared of him.

"Hoffman," one of his guards barked in his ear. "Move!"

Hoffman glared at him. "One second." He turned back to Pamela. She'd irritated him so many times in the past trying to get full 'details' out of him – he might as well give her his full attention now and finally give her the big story she always wanted from him.

She swallowed. "S – Sir, we've had reports that you have just received the death penalty over charges brought against you. Is there anything you'd like to say?"

Hoffman shrugged. Why not leave her with something to puzzle over?

"_Pay my respects to grace and virtue, send my condolences to good. Give my regards to soul and romance; they always did the best they could. And so long to devotion: you taught me everything I know. Wave goodbye, wish me well – you've gotta let me go._"

He left her behind and got into the van – the last thing he saw as it drove away was her confused face peering through the window at him. He knew she couldn't see him, though: the windows were all tinted.

"Weird choice of words." The guard next to him commented. "Killers' lyrics." He added.

"I thought I was one." He replied coolly.

They drove the rest of the way in silence.

It didn't bother him that the sun was still shining when he was about to die: it had been sunny the day his sister was murdered, the day he never said goodbye. He'd met up with her earlier in the very same apartment, just sharing a cup of coffee and chatting. She'd laughed at something he'd said, and the sun had come out from behind a cloud and hit the back of her head, giving her a halo like an angel.

"_Promise me you'll be careful, Angie."_

"_God, stop calling me that! And you know that I will be: Seth's a good man, you've just gotta look a bit closer."_

He'd looked at the bruise painted carefully over with foundation at her left temple and said nothing. She'd smiled sadly.

"_You don't have to keep looking out for me the whole time, Mark."_

"_You're my only family; I don't want you to get hurt."_

"_I won't learn from my mistakes until you let me."_

"_It'd be better if you never make them."_

She'd laughed again, the sun catching the ends of her hair on fire, her eyes playful. _"But that will never work Mark: then I'll never learn."_ The phone had rung next to her. _"One sec."_ She'd picked it up and walked out of the room. _"Oh, hey Seth!"_

He'd noticed the time and left, scribbling a note saying he'd call her later.

He'd believed her. Foolishly, naively believed her.

Believed _in_ her.

And look where that had got both of them.

He blinked. He'd been so lost in his thoughts he hadn't looked where he was going, his body moving on autopilot, and now he was inside and it was cold as death, and they were even closer now to his means of passage from this world to the next.

He should've taken in more of the world as it had been his last hour in it. Oh well. Nothing to be done about it now.

The straps they tightened around his wrists and ankles dug deep into his flesh: he winced and someone sniggered quietly. He knew that they wanted to put him in one of his own devices and watch him die screaming in pain, but they couldn't so they wanted to inflict as much pain as possible in his last moments as they could without being found out. That was understandable; he could live with that. Or die with it.

There was a priest doing last rites or whatever and he inwardly groaned: he had never been a religious man and he wasn't going to change his mind on his deathbed.

But sometimes – especially now, with a man shrouded in darkness reached for the lever – he did wonder whether something much bigger than anything he could possibly think of was out there, manipulating the lives of the living like a master with his puppets, like John had manipulated him.

His last thought, if it could ever have been written down or recorded in time, was this:

_Are we human, or are we dancers?_


	2. Young Forever: Mr Hudson Ft JayZ

**Track 02: Young Forever – Mr Hudson Ft. JayZ**

"Jill – "

"Get out."

"Jill, it's not what you think – "

"Last time you said that, it was _exactly_ what I thought it was. Get out!"

John sighed and blocked the closing door with his foot. Through the crack he could just about make out Jill's face through the gap. There was pain as well as anger, and that cut him to the bone.

"Jill – "

"You're wasting your breath." She interrupted him again. "You might as well go; I'm not going to let you in."

"Says the woman who's squashing my foot."

"Says the man who is going to finally get caught by the cops if he doesn't – "

"If you don't open this door right NOW!"

He heard her groan at his stubbornness and smiled. The door opened again and he finally had a full view of his ex-wife and her one-bedroom flat. "Feeling back in the foot now, thanks." He remarked casually, stepping inside. She quickly closed the door and leaned against it, arms folded across her chest.

"Don't get too comfortable," She said coldly. "I'm giving you five minutes to explain, and then you're going."

"Jill," He got straight to the point. "Amanda and I...we're not..."

"Fucking?" The bluntness of her voice made him wince. "She loves you," She added bitterly. "I can tell, the way she was _looking _at you when you introduced me to her the other day – "

"She's only grateful that I helped her." He knew she'd react like this, and after what had happened between them he didn't blame her. "She's going to carry on my work when I'm gone, she isn't – "

"Oh, I'm glad that clears things up! So what is Hoffman for then? Toyboy?"

If he'd had any hair left John would've run his hands through it. "I've told you before, he is necessary – "

"For what exactly? Face it John, you're holding onto him because you're too weak to admit that you were wrong about that." She paused and tried a different angle. "She was his _sister_, couldn't you have just let it go – "

"There was no excuse for what he did!"

"Then what's your excuse then?" Silence. "What exactly gives you the right to judge him or anyone else after what you've done?"

"I learnt from them, Jill." He couldn't meet her gaze. "Are you ever going to forgive me?"

"Forgive you?" Her voice got louder. "You ruined our marriage, remember?"

How could he forget...

_So let's just stay in the moment...reminisce, talk some shit_

"_John, I want you to meet Katherine: she's volunteering to help at my clinic for a year or two."_

She'd been small and talkative to the point of being obnoxious, but that only worked in her favour. She was ginger and proud of it, her corkscrew ringlets bouncing when she nodded or laughed, which was often. _"Nice to meet you."_ He'd nodded, shaking her hand.

"_Likewise."_ She'd said shyly. She'd revealed her true colours as he'd got to know and like her – or maybe after she'd had a glass or two, whichever had come sooner – and maybe Jill had suspected a little even then...but no, she'd told him – well, screamed at him actually – that she'd dismissed it as her being paranoid: at forty nine she'd thought that she could trust him, that it would be too late to even think about having an affair. But Katherine, although looking thirty, was forty six. And, as it turned out, madly in love.

"_I want you."_ She'd murmured tugging him by the shirt towards the bed, the night Jill was out of town. He really should've protested more, but he'd given in to his own impulses and gone along with it.

It had seemed a good idea at the time.

"You don't even know how much you hurt me." He was shocked at how hollow her voice was and finally looked into her eyes. The fight seemed to have gone out of her and she now looked tired and hurt, remembering a past which held more heartache than the present could ever bring.

"I do." He whispered. There were shadows under her eyes and they darkened when she smiled emotionlessly.

"Liar."

_Leave a mark that can't erase neither space nor time_

A whole year they kept it up, the secrets and the lies and everything in between. _Life is for living, not for living uptight_ seemed to be her motto, and with her it was easy to forget he even had a wife. But of course, Jill found out. She always found out eventually.

"_I trusted you." _Was all she could say repeatedly, even after the tears had run out along with the arguments. _"I loved you."_

"_I can make it better, I swear!"_

She'd looked at him with dead eyes. _"If I can't trust you, John, how can I trust you to make it better?"_

And then she'd become pregnant, and suddenly the whole situation seemed to improve. It didn't matter that Katherine was also pregnant, this was what mattered – the baby would keep them together, he was sure of it. True, he felt a little guilt about Katherine, but he could handle that situation later once he'd got his marriage back on track –

And then Jill lost the baby. And found out about Katherine's pregnancy at around the same time.

She became increasingly bitter, and the old arguments flared up again. One night after she'd gone to bed early after yet another unbearable evening, someone rang from the hospital, asking for him to come in immediately. Thinking it was about the screening results, he went right away. It was confusing at that time of night, but the amount of crap the doctors did anyway...

But it wasn't: it was like a parallel universe.

Katherine had died from a serious miscarriage, but the baby had survived.

"_Her heart couldn't take the stress and gave out."_ The doctor had informed him privately. _"Of course, some kind of stress brought on heart problems from relationship problems a few months ago. You could say she died from a broken heart. She claimed you were the father, so..." _The accusatory glance said enough.

"_Can I see the baby?"_ He'd finally managed to say.

The doctor had shrugged. _"Sure, if you want to."_

She had Katherine's brown-almost-black eyes, a fuzz of black covering her head. He stared down at her as she looked up at him, and it was almost as if she knew because she didn't cry or squirm. She stayed silent and almost pleading.

But his mind was made up: he hadn't wanted to child. It served only as a reminder to what he'd done, the mistake he'd made: he loved Jill, he still did, and he'd deliberately hurt her and ruined everything.

"_I'm sorry, you've got it wrong."_ He'd intoned flatly. "I'm _not the father."_ The girl had whimpered when the doctor took her away: he had just left the hospital and drove home.

_Bye-byes aren't for legends_

"You'd better go now." Jill said quietly, looking away.

He started forward. "Jill – " He started desperately, but stopped.

_If you love me baby this is how you let me know, don't ever let me go, that's how you let me know baby_

"Just go." She opened the door and John left, letting the darkness swallow him whole as the light was shut out behind him.

_Do you really want to live forever, forever, forever young?_

**Not as good as the last one, sorry...**

**Next song – if you watched the David Tennant special of 'Never Mind the Buzzcocks' – involves a band that 'whenever you think it's been killed for good, it regenerates itself'...**


	3. Denial: The Sugababes

**Yes, it is the band you were – hopefully – thinking of: The Sugababes.**

**Seriously, I don't know about you guys, but chucking out an old band member and replacing it with a new one is a really cheap way of re-vamping music and making the band 'cool' again: if they die out then they're clearly not that good. To be honest I only liked them because of Keisha, and then they kicked her out...**

**Anyway, here's one of the songs WITH Keisha.**

xXx

**Track 03: Denial – The Sugababes**

"_Adam, no."_

"What?"

Adam heard Lawrence sigh down the phone. He wrapped the cord round his fingers, needing something to hold on to.

"_Adam, I'm sorry but it can't work anymore. I know how you feel about me, and...I don't like doing this either, but – "_

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Adam cut in harshly. He felt Lawrence wince down the phone and wanted to apologise, but couldn't: this was his only defence mechanism.

Who would've known? He wondered. Who would've known that post-Jigsaw, I would be this much in love with you and you with me?

Because this had been what had kept Adam going these past few months, laughing and chatting and meeting up with Lawrence and wondering if he'd ever know the truth – and half hoping he would.

_Somewhere in the back of my mind, secretly I know you will find me amongst the blushing and glow, teach me all the things I don't show_

And in the end he _had_ seen, and it had been all that Adam had ever dreamed of because Lawrence had felt the same way about him. It had only been a few weeks but to Adam it had felt like a lifetime of happiness – more than he'd ever had in his whole life.

Of course, now that illusion was over. He really should've known.

"_Adam, please try to understand. Diana really needs me, she's my daughter. Think about what this would do to her..."_

"No, Lawrence." His voice sounded harsher than ever and now he winced even at himself. "You just don't want to leave Allison." Another sigh, followed by static. "What, it's the truth and you know it! You just don't want to hurt her feelings!"

"_Adam, I didn't think – "_

"What about my feelings, Lawrence?" He was shouting now, despair turning to anger – God knows what the neighbours were thinking. He didn't give a damn. "Or didn't you think about that either?"

"_Adam, please – "_

"I'm sorry, Lawrence. Call me when you've got your priorities straight." Adam slammed the phone down, trying unsuccessfully to hold back tears.

_Mystery's a beautiful thing...never let it out just like that; let him slowly figure it out_

Lawrence groaned and pressed his forehead against the wall, closing his eyes. _Well, THAT went well!_ He thought bitterly. He heard the rain hitting the windowpanes: it was quiet, Diana and Allison were out of town visiting relatives on Allison's side of the family. He hadn't been invited along.

Things were worse between himself and Allison than Lawrence could bring himself to admit. He couldn't even look at the photographs on the walls: the smiles looked fake, the eyes challenging. He wanted to make things work for Diana's sake, but even he could see it was a losing battle: cold silences and constant bickering over the smallest things was all he got when he was at home, or when she was.

It was always so, so different with Adam. Somehow with a sarcastic comment he could make the whole situation look stupid, almost comical, and it meant the entire world to him. Lawrence smiled ruefully to himself at all those times Adam had stuck by him and patiently got the whole story from him when he didn't really want to talk about it. The way he always understood.

That made him love him more.

_You were like a power of nature, telepathic beautiful creature_

_Understanding all of my weakness, patient love, you'll know when you reach it._

And yes, those weeks he'd had with Adam had been the happiest yet, but...Lawrence sighed and made his way up the stairs. It wasn't right: somehow he had to make it better with Allison. Maybe it was something he'd done, or something he'd said.

_Or maybe she doesn't love you anymore._ It was odd how the voice in his head sounded so much like Adam's. _Come on, man, face the facts, or don't you want yourself to ever be happy again?_

Lawrence shook his head angrily, but going into the bathroom he felt a sense of doubt. He closed the open window and stared broodingly into the mirror.

_You were never supposed to be part of what I'd call amazing, took so long to finally see_

"God, what's wrong with me?" He asked his refection. His reflection stared gravely back at him, as though saying: _"You already know."_

And deep down, he realised reluctantly, he did.

_I didn't want to fall in love with you; I didn't want to know the things I knew_

_It wasn't 'til I looked into the mirror: Denial_

The realisation made him feel lighter, almost free. He thought of Adam and smiled. Who was he kidding? Making his way downstairs back to the phone, Lawrence knew exactly what to say to Adam.

_I see the way the wind blows like open minds for us, no complicated barriers to hold us back._

Adam picked up on the first ring. _"Hello, you bastard."_ Lawrence chuckled. Good old Adam...

"Adam?"

"_Yeah?"_

"Ok."

Silence.

"_Ok?"_

"Yeah...is 'ok' alright with you?"

Lawrence heard Adam laugh.

"_Lawrence, 'ok' is awesome."_

**Pinched last line from 'A Very Potter Musical'...I LOVE the Voldemort/Quirrel in that! Anyone else watched it? Who's your fav characters? (Draco's cool too, but I prefer V/Q)**


	4. Flux: Bloc Party

**One of my favourite songs on my iPod right now.**

**Track 04: Flux – Bloc Party**

You never understood  
And you'll never understand  
What was that old saying?  
_If your right hand  
Causes you pain, cut it off_  
To be honest I thought what he'd said  
Had been a bluff  
_There is lightning in this room  
Above our heads, waiting to strike  
_I was so unaware  
He was aware of our plight

You helped me, you taught me  
You were both tutor and friend  
And even then you saw  
That my trust would bring my end  
_'I'm a thinker not a talker  
Put your faith in God.'_ You said  
But even them I'm sure of this  
You knew the tears I shed  
You knew the love I had for you  
You had the same for me  
But you're the one who realised  
It simply couldn't be

_When you shouted at me  
I saw my father in second grade_  
That one time I cast aside  
The whole of my façade  
_Concerned and kind  
Yet unable to reach me_  
You never tried to reach my heart  
And so it was never free  
I wish it were _just you and I  
_That he had never come  
Surely you had realised  
He'd undo all that we'd done

_So all that we've learnt disappears  
_He drove us apart  
The lies and tension ruined our chances  
I cried in shadows; he laughed  
And then the final stabbing blow  
The final twist of the knife  
He picked up a pen and put it to paper  
And so ended my life  
The truth would destroy you  
I could never watch you cry  
And so I took the heavy gun –  
I never said goodbye

You cried anyway, that I know  
You shouldn't have tried to hide it  
_We need to talk_ I tried to speak  
But my throat wouldn't abide it  
I wonder if you felt it then  
The connection that should have been  
But it never will 'cos Hoffman  
Tore the unfinished seam  
It should have bound us; instead  
Death brought us together  
The look in your eyes sadly said  
'We could've had forever'

_We were hoping for some romance_  
I reached for a final touch

_All we found was more despair_  
I failed: I never wanted much

_We must talk about our problems_  
I caught the look but never the kiss

_We are in a state of flux_  
If only there'd been more than this...

**Studying love poems for English GCSE...couldn't think of a good one-shot plotline, so I made up this instead. Hope you enjoyed!**


	5. Toxic: Britney Spears

**First came StrahmHoffman, and now a pairing that I hope will make readers drop/spit out whatever they're drinking...this took me a long while to think up, but here it is and please don't hate me for the complete nonsense.**

**Track 05: Toxic – Britney Spears**

She paced up and down the bare warehouse floor, unable to concentrate on any of the trap designs littering the tables. She tried to look anywhere but at the door but still her eyes were drawn to it. Jill was nervous, and she had every right to be: She'd just found out that Mark Hoffman was still alive, and he was coming for her.

Biting her lip, she turned determinedly away from archway covered with plastic sheeting and tried to concentrate in vain. She hated how twitchy she was but she couldn't help it: deep down under her composed exterior part of her wanted to scream and run. But he'd like to see that, she knew it – she knew how much he loved being in control of her.

A slight noise came from behind her and she bit her lip. This time she knew that it wasn't just her hysterical imagination talking, but this time she didn't turn round. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Jill could feel his eyes like lasers in the small of her back, but she forced herself to keep still.

"Hello Jill." A pause. "Aren't you going to say hello?" She saw in her mental vision the smirk that was already curving his full lips. His eyes never wavered from the spot on her back and she felt a mixture of fear and – she cringed – want. She closed her eyes and tried to control herself.

_Baby can't you see? I'm calling  
A guy like you should wear a warning_

"It's a shame you can still talk," She said coolly, turning around slowly with every nerve screaming. "I was happier with you being the strong, silent type rather than you being the obnoxious, big-mouthed detective you usually are." As she expected he was smirking, and his smirk grew wider as he took her in. Her body betrayed her and she tried her hardest to stop the blood rushing to her face. She'd tried to tell herself that the scar would have disfigured him somewhat, but that wasn't the case: he was just as damn sexy as he'd always been and it annoyed her.

_You're dangerous, I'm fallin'_

Mark let out a low chuckle. He couldn't help it: she had tried to kill him and she was still so obviously turned on by him that it was positively hilarious. He looked her up and down and couldn't stop lust from clouding his fresh feelings of hatred and anger. He inwardly kicked himself: he shouldn't be still feeling this way for her, not after everything she'd done to him.

_There's no escape, I can't wait_

He hated the way she possessed him and in some ways she was more manipulative than her ex-husband had been. The way she clawed at his back and begged for more drove him close to the brink of insanity and he was sure she felt the same way towards him. Mark traced the scar running between the side of his mouth to near his ear – to think of all the things he'd done for her, getting rid of John and Amanda so that they could be together, and this was how she repaid him?

Jill saw the brooding look in his eyes as he rubbed to side of his face, an involuntary shudder running through her. She sighed: she wanted so badly to give in to what she was feeling, but she had to stand her ground, for John. _But John's not here anymore, is he?_ A malicious voice whispered in the back of her mind.

_I need a hit, baby give me it._

"Mark, this was one of John's last wishes. I couldn't let him down."

"He's gone, Jill: I wonder whether you thought about letting _me_ down." He watched her squirm a little; he almost admired the clinical tone of her voice. _She's trying to deny what she's feeling._ He realised, and admired her even more.

_You're dangerous, I'm loving it_

"I didn't want to let you down." Jill's cheeks burned as she looked away from him: how DARE he make her give in just like that? She heard him walk over to her and fought her primal urge to launch herself at him.

_Too high, can't come down  
Losing my head, spinning round and round_

Mark gripped her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. She stared defiantly into his eyes with a cocktail of hate and lust that was overwhelming and he did his best to meet that. "Prove it."

"How?"

"Figure that out yourself."

Jill reluctantly let go of her self-control and grabbed him by his shirt collar, thrusting his head towards hers and biting down hard on Mark's lower lip. He hissed and licked the resulting flow of blood, then returned her vicious kiss with a vengeance.

_With the taste of your lips I'm on a ride  
You're toxic, I'm slipping under_

She tore at the scar just east of his mouth and he swore as the blood started to flow. He bit down hard on her tongue and she moaned in pain.

"You try anything like that again," He threatened. "And I'll bite your tongue right off, don't think I wouldn't."

Jill spat out blood, her words coming out thick and slurred. "I suppose you don't count this as an abusive relationship, do you?"

"Well, you know what they say." Mark winked. "A kiss with a fist is better than none." He returned the attack on her lips and Jill gave in, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms round his back.

_With a taste of a poison paradise  
I'm addicted to you; don't you know that you're toxic?_

She barely felt the needle in her neck: the next thing she knew the world was swaying and ironically the only thing in focus – the only thing holding her up – was Mark.

"You bastard." She just about managed to get out.

"Sorry, Jill. Just think of this as an eye for an eye – I'm hoping that you won't fail me and survive."

"And if I fail you?"

Mark gave her a hard look. "Don't." He kissed her so lightly their lips hardly brushed. "To be continued?"

Jill barely had time to nod before she slipped into unconsciousness, falling into the darkness where his arms received her.

_And I love what you do; don't you know that you're toxic?_

**I'm guessing from the looks of Saw 3D that she probably will fail him. Badly.  
So, thoughts?**


	6. In My Head: Jason DeRulo

**Was not happy when I heard the ending of Saw 3D, and from the sound of things it wasn't that good either. I just started wondering: would Lawrence still honestly leave someone to die? And would he try to keep them alive? I hope people will like this...**

xXx

**Track 06: In My Head – Jason DeRulo**

It should have ended right there, right then. He'd left him there and walked away, away from the screams, a job well done. It had been two days before he cracked, and he still kicked himself for it. Why had he done it?

Why? Of course he knew why.

The whole fucking situation reminded him of Adam, and his broken promise. _I'll come back for you..._

Lawrence Gordon groaned and tried to stand, swearing as his head connected with a metal pipe over his head. He remained in a crouched position, the pain throbbing through his skull. Working on the traps was harder work than he'd thought, but if John's work had to continue then so be it.

It was made even harder, though, with the knowledge of the man Lawrence had captive in the bathroom right – technically speaking – under his feet. Although to be honest, Lawrence didn't know why he wanted to escape: he had nowhere to go anyway.

A shrill beeping broke his line of thought and he stood slowly, walking back into the main room of his 'lair' to switch the timer off and reset it. He looked down at his watch and sighed: time to check up on him again.

Grabbing a candle, some cold sludgy stuff that looked like porridge and a bottle of Volvic mineral water, Lawrence kicked open the trap door and made his way down the stairs. Navigating the labyrinth of corridors, he thought of his wife and child: last he'd heard, they were somewhere up in California. It pained him to know he'd never see Diana grow up into the beautiful woman he knew she'd be, but this way it saved them from knowing the truth. He stopped short at the sliding door which led into the bathroom – his hell, and now someone else's. He took a deep breath – _when it comes down to it, it's just a game_ – and pushed open the door.

Hoffman glared up at him from where he was sprawled on his front, his aqua eyes screwed up against the light. Lawrence followed his outstretched arm and smirked; he had deliberately left the key to Hoffman's chain right where he could see it, but couldn't reach it. Clearly it hadn't stopped the ex-detective from trying.

"You'll hurt yourself if you keep doing that," He commented, crouching down near Hoffman's head and carefully putting the key in his pocket. Hoffman swallowed hard as he glared at him, and Lawrence had the sudden urge to stroke the exposed skin of his neck...he quickly suppressed the impulse. Standing and going over to where a candle had nearly burnt itself out, he lit the new one and placed it neatly on the edge of the bath. "I've _got a better solution for you..._" He said, turning back round.

"What's that? Actually handing it to me?" Lawrence heard the clink of chains as Hoffman turned round to bore holes in his back with his eyes and suppressed a chuckle. He turned back round and picked up the bowl.

"Am I going to have to force feed you this again?" Hoffman kept his mouth closed as Lawrence picked up the spoon. "Yes? Well, if that's how you want it – "

Hoffman lunged at Lawrence's legs, catching him off balance. Lawrence swore as he toppled over, trying to throw Hoffman off him as the man tried to find the inside pocket of his coat. The bowl clattered to the floor, spilling most of its contents. Hoffman was distracted by the noise and Lawrence seized his chance and kicked Hoffman in the shin. Hoffman howled with pain, and Lawrence picked up the bowl and poured the remaining contents into his mouth. Hoffman choked and tried to spit it out, but Lawrence forced his mouth shut and wouldn't let go till he swallowed. He let go and the two men fell away from each other. The two men glared at each other, breathing heavily. Then –

"Water?" Lawrence asked sweetly, holding out the bottle. Hoffman rubbed his throat and reached out, but Lawrence was ready and whipped his hand back. "Uh-uh," He wagged his finger at him. "Say please."

"Please," Hoffman spat, snatching the water and taking a massive swig. A trail of water trickled down his chin and Lawrence fought the impulse to wipe it away.

"So, _doctor_," Hoffman screwed the lid back on the bottle. "Why are you here?"

"Obviously to give you your food and – "

"Not that and you know it. Why are you keeping me alive? Because if it's for another trap – "

"No, not that. Never that."

"So what then?"

Lawrence bit his lip. _Get down to business_. "I've got an offer to make you."

"Oh yeah, the 'better solution'," Hoffman rolled his eyes. "Please, spare me!"

"Look, if you're not going to listen – " Lawrence snapped. Hoffman raised his hands in mock surrender. "God, take it easy yeah?"

Lawrence nodded slowly, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, and leaned forward. "I didn't lock you up down here because I wanted to," He said softly. Hoffman scoffed. "I'm serious! If you want to go, then just say so, but you're going to have to listen to me now."

"So you're going to be in control of everything now?"

"Yes."

Lawrence watched him as he thought it over. _Just leave with me now, say the word and we'll go; I'll be the teacher, I'll show you the ropes._

Hoffman looked up abruptly. "How do I know that I can trust you?" Lawrence sighed with irritation and pulled out the key from his pocket.

"Mark, this is the best deal you're going to get. I'll have to keep you under surveillance, but – "

"Whoa, hold on," Hoffman cut him off. "You're going to be watching everything that I do?"

"Yes, but – "

"That's not freedom, that's just putting me on a longer fucking chain!" Hoffman jangled the metal round his leg for emphasis.

"It's better than nothing," Lawrence pinned the metal down and stared coldly into Hoffman's face. He hadn't really realised how close they were until this point, and the sudden knowledge made him nervous. "I had no choice, you know that right?"

"Of course you didn't." Lawrence couldn't tell whether the man in front of him was being sarcastic or serious – the light from the candle didn't quite reach his face. He leaned forward and opened his mouth to reply, but due to the lack of light he judged the distance wrong and he found himself kissing Mark Hoffman square on the lips. He cursed himself and tried to move backwards, but Hoffman kept him in place with one arm and started kissing him back, and he was powerless to stop it. It may have been seconds or years that it lasted, but just when Lawrence thought that Hoffman was for real and not just trying to get at the key still in his right hand he pulled away abruptly. The two men looked at each other in silence for a moment, and then Lawrence hastily stood up again, withdrawing the key.

"I'll see you later," He mumbled, putting the key roughly where it had been when he'd come in.

"So that's it?" The words were hard and Lawrence winced. He turned back round and tried to read Hoffman's face in the darkness. He was filthy from his long stint in the bathroom and crawling across the floor, trying for the key, but it wasn't just that that had rubbed off on Lawrence Gordon...it was something a lot more...

Lawrence shrugged off his thoughts and walked away. "Laters." He said, turning at the door. Hoffman gave a brief nod – the tip of the scar on the left part of his face was the last thing the light reached before Lawrence closed the door fully.

He walked away a few steps, then buried his face in his hands. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_...he should never have kept him alive, but it had reminded him of Adam and what he should've done, the promises he should've kept.

And he should've kept away.

_In my head – I see you all over me in my head. You fulfil my fantasies in my head –_

He hated himself for those thoughts, but there was nothing he could do, no John to stop him. And there was nothing stopping him from going to the bathroom each day, every day, because nothing he did ever would.

But hopefully this small change finally would.

Lawrence heard a grunt of surprise, and the key – which he had left just inside Hoffman's reach – being fitted into the lock. He smiled.

What happened next was Hoffman's choice.

**Hehehehe...I seem to have lost my song sheet, so it may be a while before I next update. Bear with me while I find it though – It's got to be somewhere!**


	7. Little Lion Man: Mumford & Sons

**Track 06: Little Lion Man – Mumford & Sons**

Drip...drip...drip...

A tap? A trick of the mind? Who knows? The darkness swallowed everything, marinating in the sickly smell of drying blood and rotting flesh. It may as well have been hell – especially for one man.

In the darkness, Adam was crying.

_Weep for yourself my man; you'll never be what is in your heart. Weep little lion man, you're not as brave as you were at the start._

It disturbed him that there were voices in his head, but he didn't dwell on that now. How long – Days? Months? Years? – had he been trapped down here, the blood trickling from his arm. He gasped for breath and thought the walls were closing in on him. The darkness toyed with his mind, toyed with it as Jigsaw had as he'd left him dying, terrified, screaming. He'd been scared at the beginning, scared even before it had started, scared even now at the very end.

_Rate yourself and rate yourself, take all the courage you have left: wasted on fixing all the problems that you made in your own head._

Adam hit his head against the wall – not only to stop the voices, but to stop himself crying. He hated himself for being so weak, hated himself for the reason that had left him here to die: he was a coward, nothing more, nothing less.

The darkness had followed him all his life, he could see now. Hiding in corners away from his father as a toddler, lying awake at night as a child as his parents screamed at each other, the smoky clubs he'd frequent as a teenager – a loner, the dark corners he'd lurk in once again as a man to show how dark other people's lives truly were with his camera – the only thing that had stayed with him his whole life – and even now, at the end of his life, it mocked him, twisted his mind to see the shapes it made with its gnarled hands.

He closed his eyes to block it all out, but the voices continued, sneering and cruel. There was nothing left for him, but he desperately wanted to live. And have a smoke. But it was way too late...

_Tremble for yourself my man; you know that you have seen this all before. Tremble little lion man: you'll never settle any of your scores –_

The impossible happened: light streamed from the opening door, a woman whispered his name, and a hand touched his face. He moaned to let her know that yes, he was alive. He'd have laughed if he'd had any strength left – in fact, he might as well attempt it now. Jigsaw hadn't beaten him, he'd beaten Jigsaw. _They'd_ beaten Jigsaw...he could never thank Lawrence enough for coming back for him, just as he'd promised.

There was something wrong. There was no air to laugh with – in fact, no oxygen to even breathe in. He opened his eyes and his vision was distorted by clear plastic, he could see the door lying open, but that too mocked him, tortured him. He struggled, tried to scream, but slender hands held him back.

Adam remembered now where he'd heard the woman's voice before, the niggling at the back of his head exploding into a burst of pure clarity. A young woman, hair cut dangerously short, outside his apartment, hours before his nightmare started (Or had it begun when he was born? Was it finally coming to an end? There was no pain now, only the burning sensation in his lungs)

He'd quite liked her: he'd called her a rockstar, taken her picture – a new start? A fresh beginning? Who knows? Hearing her laugh, it had felt like he was a mile high, a little lion man, brave and standing in the light.

And now this.

He didn't know what to feel (Could he even feel anymore? He checked – no)

_Your grace in wasted in your face, your boldness stands alone amongst the wreck. Now learn from your mother or spend your days biting your own neck._

The voices were leaving him, reality seeping away with it. He could have smiled, but he didn't care enough to. He'd never come. Lawrence never came, he never 'came back for him'. But that was all right, he was fine with that.

_It was not your fault but mine_

_And it was your heart on the line_

_I really fucked it up this time_

_Didn't I my dear?_

**I thought it would be a good idea to go from the beginning to the end – I didn't really know what to do with this song, but listening to it all I could think of was poor little Adam all on his own, so brave and yet so damned. Like this chapter if you thought the same way...**

**I HAD A BACKUP NOTEBOOK! YAAAYYY!**


	8. Cover Girl: Mr Hudson

**Ok, this story is one of my all-time favourites: My Life by xXErineilXx. Hoffman is still addicted to muffins, randomness is definite laugh out loud material, and the relationship between Zepp and Izzy is somehow very believable...which inspired this...**

xXx

**Track 07: Cover Girl – Mr Hudson**

"There's something wrong with Izzy."

Amanda looked up at John and frowned. "What do you mean, wrong?"

"I mean as in she isn't as...lively as she usually is."

"Yeesss!" John glared at her. "What? It can be a bit...overwhelming."

"Are you talking about Hoffman or our daughter?"

"Fair point. Ah well, I'm sure Zepp will get it out from her sooner or later."

Meanwhile, Amy was poking Izzy in the shoulder. "Izzyyyyy, wake up!"

"I'm already awake, idiot," Izzy's voice was muffled because of the sofa cushion over her face. "I'm just ignoring you in the vague hope that you'll go AWAY!"

Amy stopped poking, looking hurt. "But Hoffman got us all tickets to go and see Jedward."

Izzy rolled over to look at her. "Amy, he got the tickets because you held his muffin stash hostage till he agreed to your demands."

Amy shrugged it off. "Still, it won't be any fun if you don't come...'sides, Adam and Lawrence are actually threatening...to THROW things at them!" She shuddered.

Izzy rolled over onto her stomach again. "I don't wanna come, Amy – just go away." Amy looked at her friend sadly, then picked up her half-eaten caramel muffin – of her own recipe – and put it in Izzy's hand. "For when you're hungry." She added when she walked out the room.

Izzy paused to look at it, then moaned and threw it in the vague direction of the door. Zepp walked in and caught it one handed. "Nice save," He congratulated himself as he took a big bite, then strolled over and sat down next to Izzy. "What's up?"

"Go away."

"I will if you tell me what's wrong."

Izzy sighed and looked at him. "It's just one of those days where you feel fat and ugly and everything seems to suck."

Zepp glanced quickly at the open door. "Ssh, don't let John hear that."

"Whatever." Izzy tried to return to the pillow, but Zepp pulled her upright. "What?"

"Get your coat, we're going out."

"Zepp, I really don't feel like – "

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing." Izzy mumbled something under her breath and stalked out to get one. Zepp went into the kitchen where John and Amanda were talking quietly. "I'm taking Izzy off your hands for a bit."

"Be back by eleven, okay?" Amanda called as they left.

"Yes, Mother!" Amanda winced. "I _hate_ it when they call me that!"

Half an hour later the two of them walked into a crowded venue where a band was playing a gig.

"'Mr Hudson & the Library'?" Izzy sniggered. "Now I've seen everything.

Zepp winced. "Yes, the band name is a little lame, but they've done a song which I think will – ah, this is it!"

The blond man at the front started to sing.

_Beauty is in the eye, beauty is in the eye  
Thank you for this kiss – It's all I really wanted  
If you believe that darling then you'd better run  
Thank you for this kiss, thank you for this kiss  
So beauty is in the eye of the beholder  
If you believe that darling I'm looking at you  
If you believe that darling I'm looking at you_

"Bit weird!" Izzy called over the noise of the crowd.

"Keep listening!" Zepp yelled back.

_Go on believing that, but darling, you'd better run  
You'll never be a cover girl: just facing facts, your face isn't right  
But I'll never want another girl, now I've seen you in this light_

"Aww," Izzy grinned. "That is sooo cute!" Zepp facepalmed – she clearly wasn't getting the message.

_Thank you for this kiss, thank you for this kiss, thank you for this kiss: it's all I really wanted_

If you believe that darling you'd better run  
If you believe that darling, then you'd better run, run  
Cause you'll never be a cover girl: just facing facts, your face isn't right  
But I'll never want, never want a cover girl now I've seen you in this light

"The song's about someone who thinks they're ugly and someone who cares about them thinks they're not model-pretty, but they're gorgeous to them." Zepp said meaningfully.

_Your never be a cover girl: just facing facts, your face isn't right  
But I'll never want, never need a cover girl now I've seen you in this light  
I'll never be, never be a gentleman: just facing facts  
My face isn't right  
And you'll never want, never want a gentleman  
Now you've seen me in that light_

Izzy finally got it and Zepp felt like cheering when she hugged him and said –

"Aww, thanks Zepp: you're such a great friend!"

Zepp backtracked. "No, that's not what I – " The song ended and the resultant cheers drowned out anything he wanted to say. He groaned; he'd been misunderstood – AGAIN.

Izzy tugged at his arm. "C'mon, we get moving now we'll catch up with Hoffman and Amy and stop Lawrence and Adam from throwing stuff at Jedward! Oh, and thanks for re-establishing my self-esteem!"

"You're welcome." Zepp sighed as they left the building.

**Did I mention that I always, ALWAYS feel sorry for Zepp when he tries to get his feelings across and always, ALWAYS fails? Next chapter soon!**


	9. Relax Take It Easy: Mika

**Sorry for not updating for so long – have been working on trying to get my book published. As it stands I've only just sent it to agents, so I kinda need a bit of stress relief right now...anyway, hope you enjoy!**

xXx

**Track 09: Relax (Take It Easy) – Mika**

At first he'd thought that he'd overdosed on the morphine. It had been an hour already; even after getting a paper and coffee the detective was still slumped in the chair and restraints, head lolling over the barrel of the gun. John smiled slightly, flicking the paper open and briefly scanning the stories inside: a dad killed in a war in some far-off country, a child hit by a speeding car while delivering a birthday card, a mum jailed for benefit fraud. It made him sick to his stomach, but in a place like this it was the one and only way to pass the time. He refused to read the front cover however: he knew what was there.

A sister raped and murdered, and a brother finally 'revenged'. And yet it didn't show the whole story; a corrupt officer taking his drunken revenge, and then like a coward placing the blame at someone else's door. _His_ door. Anger seeped through his veins and he flipped the paper shut, taking another glug of coffee. Patience. He would wake up soon, and then he'd understand.

Almost on cue he heard the man stir, and then the slight creak as he pulled against the restraints. John flicked his eyes up from the paper, trying hard to seem relaxed even though his heart was pounding like a drum.

_It's as if I'm scared, it's as if I'm terrified, it's as if I'm scared; it's as if I'm playing with fire_

He'd never done something like this before – not really. Certainly he had with Cecil, but that wasn't the same; this time he wanted to do a deal. For an instant he caught himself feeling nervous and scolded himself for it – what could possibly go wrong? The detective's eyes rested on him, and John was surprised to note that he was more curious than scared. That annoyed him. He took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the counter.

_Relax_

Showtime.

"You know why you're here don't you." No point in formalities, not needed – especially when you've knocked someone out in a grubby lift and put a shotgun under their head. The detective – Mark Hoffman – said nothing. That was annoying as well. "They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery," He continued, injecting sarcasm into his words. "I find it somewhat...distasteful...to be given credit for work that is not mine." He unrolls the paper again with a slight flourish, showing off the headline: 'Jigsaw Killer Responsible For Pendulum Murder'. Mark's eyes looked fleetingly at the paper and then back up at John.

_Are you scared?_

"Especially inferior work." And it had been; poor, shoddy craftsmanship. Disappointing, especially when you knew that the idiot could've made so much better.

John put the paper down and regarded Mark carefully. The detective for his part didn't seem too fussed about his situation, but John knew better; even the very best of disguises can be chipped away in the end. Especially with a bombshell. "I know what it's like to lose family. I know what it's like not to be able to protect loved ones." He caught a glint of disquiet in Mark's eyes as he walked away and he smothered a grin. _Excellent._ "It's a powerless feeling." Alarm bells sounded when he heard the creak of restraints being pulled, of the trigger being clicked back. "Don't do that!" The sound stopped. He pulled a mirror away from the wall and placed it in front of him, he tried to make him see, but of course he didn't, so he went through everything he knew about this man, surgically, methodically. Oh, he was scared now, but he still didn't get it, that he, John Kramer, could turn him from something son inferior to something as strong as tempered steel. He ended up losing his temper, and the paper thin veneer crumbled from the detective.

"FUCK YOU!"

His expression just after John had pulled the trigger on the empty gun had been priceless, but he wasn't laughing. Finally, he felt like he was getting through to him.

"You want a chance? I'll give you a chance."

_There is an answer to the darkest times._

Even now though, after cutting the restraints away and revealing who he really was, John was apprehensive as to how truly he had made his mark. His suspicions were only raised by Mark's calm statement: "I could kill you right now."

"But you're not a true killer." As he kept on talking he checked the gun. One bullet. He didn't want to use it – a helping hand would be useful – but if it came to it, if the detective called his bluff...

_It's clear we don't understand, but the last thing on my mind is to leave you: I believe that we'll end this together._

"We're at a crossroads detective. Make your choice."

_Don't scream, there are so many roads left._

He grinned as Mark threw the knife down. So, he was in it for the long haul. By his own will or not, the choice was made and neither of them could turn back now, whatever happened along the way. He felt Mark's eyes drill into his head and sighed.

_Relax, take it easy, for there is nothing that we can do. Relax, take it easy: blame it on me or blame it on you._

"Welcome to my world, detective."

_Relax._

**I understand that this isn't very good; I'm more used to creating my own stuff so I can't really base stuff around a certain scene (which makes Drama GCSE difficult I can tell you...) Last chapter coming (hopefully) soon!**


	10. Tears Dry On Their Own: Amy Winehouse

**So, the very last chapter, with my very favourite pairing; shorter than I'd hoped, but hopefully still good! Thanks for following me through this challenge and I hope this is a good finish to the collection of one-shots. Enjoy!**

xXx

**Track 10: Tears Dry on Their Own – Amy Winehouse**

Amanda wasn't sure what it was about her last meeting with Hoffman that had put her so on edge. The conversation they'd had had been brief, the contact minimal, but the look he'd given her before going into John's room had been laced with something that had sent shivers down her spine. And not in a good way. There had been a time when the glances he'd thrown her way had made her feel completely different: a good thrill rather than a bad one.

But then, nothing was the same anymore.

_All I can ever be to you is a darkness that we knew, and this regret I got accustomed to_

When she'd met him for the first time, surprise at finding that there was an apprentice other than her had quickly worn off, replaced by a burning desire that she couldn't control. Of course she tried, tried to detach herself emotionally as John had taught her, but this want snapped at her heels and refused to leave her alone. And those looks, those goddamn looks, did nothing to help matters.

_I knew I hadn't met my match, but every moment we could snatch I don't know why I got so attached_

She delayed it as long as possible, until she could no longer ignore the fact that he was feeling the same, before finally giving in to her – and his – wishes. And it had been good, oh, so good while it lasted.

_Once it was so right when we were at our height, waiting at home in the hotel at night_

It was meant to be a one-night stand, but it grew to two, then three, and suddenly it was every other night that she was sneaking out to the nearest motel to meet up with him whilst John slept. The guilt, the thrill and the pleasure kept her coming back again and again, until she could barely distinguish the three emotions from each other; until it became an emotion so deep that she couldn't disengage herself from him like she'd kept telling herself she would – an attachment he showed himself to not have in return.

It may have seemed like it at first, but then that stupid, stupid fight.

"_How can you believe what he says? Any of it?"_

_She'd rolled over on her side to look at him. He had been staring up at the ceiling, at the mildew stain that – if you squinted – had looked a little like a skull. "He's a good man, Mark."_

"_Oh, please – what kind of a man kills people for their own good?"_

"_That's not true, not everyone dies! I mean, look at you and me!"_

_He'd finally turned his head to look at her. "That's not the point and you know it, Amanda. Survivors remain just as fucked up as before."_

"_I don't think you're fucked up." She whispered, running a hand over his chest._

_His lips had twitched almost mockingly. "It's a shame I can't say the same. Those traps were _inescapable_, Amanda."_

"_If survivors remain 'fucked up', as you say, then what's the point of them surviving?"_

_He had sighed, looked back up at the ceiling. Amanda had thought the conversation was over, but as she'd closed her eyes to drift off to sleep she 'd felt him pull her closer to him, run a hand through her hair. And then that request/ _

"_Leave him. Come with me. You'll be safe, I promise."_

She'd regretted her answer as soon as it had left her lips, but she'd had no choice; what was the point? John trusted her, depended on her, and she'd betrayed his faith in her far enough.

_It's my responsibility, and you don't owe nothing to me; but to walk away I have no capacity_

And suddenly there were no more looks, no more nights alone with him, just this bitter aura than hung in the room like a bad smell after he had left. And this made her heart ache.

_I wish I could sing no regrets and no emotional debts, but as we kiss goodbye the sun sets._

He snapped at her, they bickered; everything she did irritated him. And it was so, so confusing, and yet she totally understood.

_I don't understand, why do I stress the man when there are so many better things at hand?_

But God help her, this was unfair. This was uncalled for, inhumane. She stared down at the note with tears dripping messily down her face. She had been wrong: he _was_ fucked up, so fucked up that he had seemed perfectly sane. What kind of man offered death or certain death to a woman?

She hated him, and loved him, so much so that it hurt, and she rocked and cried and desperately tried to decipher that final look he had thrown her as he'd walked away from her – out of her life – forever, before she had no more time to think any more.

Truly, there were no happy endings.

_He walks away, the sun goes down: he takes the day but I'm gone_

_And in your way, in this blue shade, my tears dry on their own._


End file.
